The first day of school. Chaos. Hustle and bustle. Unfamiliar faces. Tiny tots reluctant to enter the school.

'The memory made him nostalgic. He rose up from his chair, contemplating. A little smile came to his lips. And....... he jumped from the window.' 

His mind was full of conflicts - conflicts between thoughts, whether to live or to die. The first option he had was to continue with a life that led him to being depressed by and by. The other recourse seemed much easier. He could experience peace, solace, contentment......

He had been a bright student since his school days; came up with 10 CGPA in his 10th standard board exams.  And as custom demands in our society, the very first statement, as expected by parents, is "ladka doctor banega" !!!!!

An introvert as he was; smiled and said nothing. Ideas kept clashing in his intellect but he didn't have the guts to speak up before his father, whose only cherished dream was to see his son as a doctor. After having gathered lots of courage overnight, he decided to speak to his father. He wished to pursue journalism. But to no avail. His attempts went in vain. He wasn't taken seriously and was reprimanded in a manner that didn't allow him to utter a word.

His parents made him enter a medical college. He lived with a heavy heart all those 5 years of graduation, with his mind and heart always quarreling.
The big day had come- convocation ceremony. And his father hugged him tightly like any other proud parent. He contended with the smile on his father's face.

"Everything has to be perfect today"- he thought as he drove to the hospital. Nervous as he was, he entered the operation theater to perform his first operation. The atmosphere was ambiguous; silence all around. His heart beated even faster. He tried to recall all that he had studied these 5 years. He operated. The case had become critical and the patient was at risk for the next 24 hours. He gave his best and walked out of the operation theater.

During the wee hours of the morning, as he sat reading the newspaper, he received a call from the hospital.

A chill ran down his spine. Yes. His very first operation was unsuccessful. The patient breathed his last that morning. He was seized by feelings of guilt. Again, the battle began. The battle between the mind and the heart - the former imposing a false hope that he was not at fault, while the latter, "accepting the truth."

 As he closed his eyes in disgust, he visualized a lad, begging his father for letting him pursue what he wants. He couldn't blame anyone; neither his father nor himself. He retrospected, all that he had done his entire life. His heart emerged victoriously but 'he lost the battle he had been raging against himself since years.'
He had been taken by self-reproach and was left with a single option that could prevent him from disgrace. Yes.... he jumped.


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